


A Private Public Exhibition

by dtrinity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 08:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17443127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dtrinity/pseuds/dtrinity
Summary: Girl talk during Ginny's hen party reveals a surprising fantasy that Hermione has been keeping to herself. Can a certain eavesdropping Marauder help her in making it come true?





	A Private Public Exhibition

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. Enough said.**
> 
>  
> 
> **This one-shot is intended for mature audiences only (i.e., if you’re reading this, you’re of age in your country of residence). If this isn’t your cup of tea – though why would you click on this if it isn’t? – or you’re too young, just hit the back or exit buttons to leave. It is (mostly) unedited and not beta-ed, so I apologize for any errors.**

“CHEERS!” a chorus of female voices cried before tossing back their respective shots of Firewhiskey.

Ginny eyed the unknowingly donated bottle of Ogden’s sitting on the worn kitchen table at Grimmauld Place with a disapproving glare. “Why did we choose to stay in again? I’m getting married! My hen night should be spent at least in a pub, not the kitchen at home!”

“Because,” Hermione said, pouring generous amounts of the amber liquid into their empty glasses, “you put me in charge of planning, and I had no desire to serve as the sober, designated apparitionist to a group of inebriated, short-tempered witches.”

“Is ‘apparitionist’ even a word?” Ginny asked curiously, suitably distracted as she happily began sipping at her refreshed drink.

“What does it matter? I’m sure that a sloshed Granger is more fun anyway,” Pansy shrugged in nonchalance. “Then again, I think the only time she knows how to have fun is when Flourish and Blott’s releases a new version of _Hogwarts: A History_.”

The brunette witch looked over at the Slytherin with a blank mask to hide her irritation. “Remind me why I invited you, again?”

Pansy’s pug-like face was only more pronounced with that smug smile adorning it. “All the bridesmaids were invited. Couldn’t very well be leaving out the bride’s sister-in-law, could you?”

“They _really_ need to work on adding the contraception charm to the Hogwarts’ curriculum,” Ginny muttered before tossing the rest of her drink back. As much as she adored her young niece – who got her nose from her father, _thank Merlin_ – she could really do without Ron’s unplanned wife.

“Speaking of fun,” Angelina interjected, hoping to maintain some semblance of peace between her in-laws while steering the conversation in a direction more in line with a hen party, she turned with a self-satisfied smirk to look daringly at the curly haired witch, “I happen to know, personally, that Hermione knows how to have a _lot_ of fun…” 

Luna’s apparently dreamy expression shifted to one of mild interest. “I didn’t know you were interested in those types of activities, Hermione. I would have been happy to share with you…”

“OI!” Ginny interrupted, one hand flying to cover Luna’s mouth. She looked cautiously at Angelina, who looked slightly embarrassed as she realized how her statement may have come across, before staring wide-eyed at Hermione. “You and Angelina…you didn’t…”

“No!” Both females denied decidedly. Hermione concluded that it was the increasing effects of the alcohol that had her hearing Pansy mutter that it was a pity. Whether it was a pity that she and Angelina had not engaged in the insinuated acts ( _doubtful_ ), or that she, _herself_ , didn’t have "fun" with females was not an idea on which she wished to ponder.

“Explain,” the red-headed witch demanded as she turned back to Angelina, her hand still covering Luna’s mouth as a precaution.

Hermione could not think of a situation that would give the older Gryffindor such evidence, and she looked curiously to the dark-skinned woman to hear what she would say.

“We-ell,” Angelina said, dragging out the word for her enraptured audience, her embarrassment overcome now that the minor misunderstanding was cleared up. “It was during the Triwizard Tournament, following the second event…”

Hermione blushed a bright red as she quickly recalled the incident of which Angelina spoke. She hadn’t realized that there was a witness to her moment of – relatively minor, in her mind – debauchery.

Ginny grinned deviously as spotting Hermione’s flushed face. “Ooh, Hermione. Do tell.”

She tried to shrug it off and occupied her eyes and hands in pouring more alcohol, but she knew that Ginny was like a bloodhound with a scent; there would be no getting out of this explanation. If they were going down this route, she needed to be much further into her cups. “You remember I had trouble warming up after coming out the lake, yeah? Warming charms weren’t helping quickly enough, so they sent me to the Hospital Wing. Viktor merely came by to make sure that I was recovering well.”

“Viktor merely _came_ by…” Angelina muttered, almost snorting her drink. 

Hermione shot her a sharp glare of annoyance at the emphasized word and felt her cheeks warm as blood rushed back to her face.

“So, Hermione,” Ginny began, twirling one slim finger around the rim of her glass, making Hermione cringe at the sound. The sparkle in the red-head’s eye told the her that she wasn’t going to like what was coming. “Is _Viktor_ as good a seeker off the broom as he is on?”

Hermione spluttered, her tongue tied. Angelina cackled in merriment at seeing the normally put-together witch so off balance. “If his enthusiastic tongue-seeking of Hermione’s snitch was any indication, I’d give him an O for effort alone!”

Pansy looked on mildly impressed. “In the Hospital Wing, with other patients lying to either side of you?” Pansy gave a couple slow claps paired with a devious smile. “Wow, Granger. Wouldn’t have taken you for a public enthusiast.”

Hermione grew slightly defensive. Any of the witches here would have done the same if the circumstance presented itself, right? “You’re telling me that the thought of getting caught doesn’t get your knickers wet?”

There was a small intake of breath that the other women in the room seemed to miss save one, and a polite smirk replaced the smile of the Slytherin witch. Whoever was listening on the other side of the kitchen door was going to get the intel of a lifetime. “The thought has never crossed my mind,” she lied smoothly, one brow arched pointedly. “Though that does explain all the rule-breaking that I’ve heard about from Ronald since graduation. Is that what gets your Gryffindor Princess knickers in a knot, Granger? A little public show?”

Hermione’s lips were pressed tightly shut as she glared down the other witch. Ginny, definitely beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol now, thought this to be a great game to start her evening. “Come on, Hermione! I’ll tell you one of mine, if you tell us one of yours. I have this particular fantasy where I’ve tied Harry –” 

“Ach!” Hermione shouted in interruption, her imaginative mind already coming up with numerous endings to that prelude. She vehemently waved both hands in the air as if to physically dispel the various imagery. “Do _not_ share what you do – or want to do – with Harry. I’ll share, just to avoid that mental picture. But first…” Hermione filled her glass again and shot back the contents quickly. The burn in her throat was mild, compared to the first shot, but the warmth helped to give her some of the courage she needed to continue.

“So, yeah,” Hermione said, resolutely staring at a knot in the worn table. “I’ve got a thing for potentially getting caught.” She shot the victorious looking Pansy a nasty glare. “The idea of having sex when surrounded by people and having them none-the-wiser…” 

Hermione shuddered as her words, aided by the aged alcohol, triggered a heated want that flooded her nether regions. Her voice was slightly breathy as she continued, “Knowing that at any second they could catch on. What would they do? Would they watch? Would they want to join?”

Angelina and Ginny’s eyes grew wide as their reserved friend admitted to such a racy fantasy. Luna was passively looking at the verbose witch, nodding her head slightly as if in agreement that such a situation was _quite_ the good time. Pansy, having been the only one to hear the gasp earlier, also appeared to be the only witch present to hear the muffled moan and small thunk of something hitting the door frame. To keep the others distracted, she observed, “It’s a good thing none of the boys at school knew what a dirty witch you are, Granger. There would have been many more visitors to the library for something like that.”

Hermione gasped, thoughts of defiling the Hogwarts library off-limits even in fantasy. “I would never!”

“Sirius!” Harry’s voice echoed from the front of the house, cutting through the thick atmosphere that had settled in the kitchen. “You ready to go, yet?”

The muffled sound of a body hastily righting itself could be heard from the hallway near to the kitchen entrance. The witches all snapped their attention to look at the door, one in extreme mortification, wondering what might have been overheard by the long-time bachelor. A minute later, the muffled reply of the older wizard could be heard, followed by the solid shutting of the front door.

Minutes passed with no further interruption, and Ginny’s inebriated mind finally caught on to the fact that Harry had left with the gents for his stag night. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and pouted at Hermione. “Thanks a lot. You’ve put me in a state and now my only source of relief is gone.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and settled back in her chair. Staring into Ginny’s slightly glassy eyes, she firmly stated, “You asked.”

A knock filtered down the hall to where the witches sat nursing their drinks in silence, causing two of the five present to jump in surprise. Hermione released an internal sigh. Perhaps this would bring up Ginny’s spirits. With a wicked smile, which Pansy noted with some surprise was quite fitting on the brunette’s face, she looked at the expectant bride-to-be and said, “The entertainment’s here.”

****

* * *

Bloody _hell_. She was going to kill Crookshanks. Or Ginny. Or both.

When she had talked to Ginny earlier in the day about the shite she’d been dealing with at work that week, she’d been hoping the red-head would be free to meet for drinks that night. She had a desperate need to blow off some steam, and very few options for doing it. It had not crossed Hermione’s overworked mind that it would have to wait for the conclusion of an even more stressful event: Ginny’s professional Quidditch match. Ginny _must_ have known that the long working hours and a general lack of sleep would slow Hermione’s processing time, because before she knew it, she was agreeing to meet at the stadium rather than the pub, as was customary. 

_Devious witch should have been put in Slytherin_ , Hermione groused internally as she pushed through the crowd to find a spot against a railing in the general seating area. It was standing room only, and Hermione had to hold onto the chest-high rail to keep her feet as the enthusiastic crowd flowed around her, occasionally brushing against her sides and back when it couldn’t be avoided.

She supposed she should be at least a _little_ grateful for the tightly packed bodies surrounding her, as the heat put off by the mass helped to warm her exposed skin. Her eyes only idly watching the players as they swooped and dived in front of her, she was distinctly reminded of why she felt the need to commit feline homicide.

As Hermione had no intention of wearing her work robes out to the pub, she had gone home to freshen up and change into something a little more flattering to her modestly curved figure. She may not be a fashion icon, like Pansy, but there were a few good options in her closet. Given the chilly weather of this week, trousers were a must. Or that’s what she’d planned.

Bloody cat must have been feeling neglected again with the long hours she’d been keeping recently, however, because he chose the most obnoxious way guaranteed to get her attention. Everything seemed fine when she got home, and she had jumped directly into the shower for a quick clean. Coming out, however, found most of her knickers strewn across the floor. Every dislocated pair had been both clawed and anointed with _l’eau de_ Crookshanks. Cleansing charms were great some types of cleaning, but she had found – from past experience – that it could only go so far with cat urine, especially of the unneutered male variety.

She was reluctant to go completely without knickers, and so dug into the back of her drawer to find the rarely worn, lacy red thong that Ginny had gifted in thanks for her hen party. Her reasoning, she swore, was that Hermione had appeared to enjoy it on the night’s entertainment so much that she should have a pair of her own. Unknown to Ginny, Hermione preferred it when men went without; it made swift access in the heat of the moment so much easier.

Unfortunately for her, the trousers she’d intended to wear were also in need of a wash, thanks to the liberal coating of cat hair that adorned them; there was no time to clean them before she left. Still determined to look nice for the evening, Hermione relegated herself to a skirt and warming charms until they could get to the pub; a few shots would do well to warm her up nicely.

A group of young wizards yelled and jostled enthusiastically as one team or another – she assumed Ireland, based on their green get-up – scored. Obviously more focused on the game than their surroundings, they didn’t notice as one of them nearly knocked Hermione flat on her arse. Luckily for her, a pair of large hands caught her from behind and assisted her back into an upright position. Turning to thank her unexpected rescuer, she started at the sight of sparkling grey eyes and a bright grin. “Sirius!”

“Hello, kitten,” Sirius replied, his eyes leisurely tracing her form from head to booted toe. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh,” Hermione flushed, her mind immediately going back to the last time she’d “interacted” with the wizard. She’d been putting the Slytherin trait of self-preservation into action in recent weeks and avoided being alone with the infamous Black in the hope of delaying the inevitable embarrassment her unwitting confession would produce. “I’m just…um…you see…”

“Relax, Hermione,” Sirius chuckled, his hands rising from her arms to rest on her shoulders. “It’s just a Quidditch game. I seem to recall that you’re not the biggest fan of the sport, so it’s a little surprising to see you here, mixing with Quidditch fanboys.”

His reference to the fervent group of Ireland supporting fanboys behind her made her laugh. “I was hoping that it would be a quick match and came after the game had started. I’m meeting Ginny for drinks after the game, you see. I didn’t want to pay some ridiculous fee for premier seating if I wasn’t going to be here long.”

“Ah,” Sirius said, nodding his head in understanding. His hands still on her shoulders, unnoticed by Hermione, he began to slowly stroke his thumbs along the line of skin peeking out from under the collar of her jumper. His eyes were sparkling, mesmerizing her a little, as he said, “That explains it then. Don’t suppose you’d want some company for the duration of the match? Purely for as a protection against any future slips, trips, and falls, of course.”

Hermione looked around him curiously, her brows furrowing in some confusion. “You aren’t here with anyone?”

Sirius used his hands to begin turning Hermione back around to face the pitch, his arms coming down in a cage around her as he rested his hands on the railing. His eyes appeared to be following the players as they dipped and swerved in complicated maneuvers over the field, Hermione noted from the corner of her eye. He dipped his head slightly so that he spoke directly into her ear, though his eyes were trained forward. “Just Harry. He’ll be so caught up with his girl’s performance that I doubt he’ll notice me missing. I’ll just tell him the lines were long for drinks, if he asks.”

“Oh,” Hermione said a little breathily. She attempted to look at least passively interested in the match, nonchalant perhaps, but the heat of Sirius’s chest at her back was proving to be a distraction. His long leather jacket, which he’d obviously donned to ward off the chill night air, had fallen forward to partially cover her sides. Despite being flustered, she did welcome the heat he casually provided to her bare thighs.

Minutes passed without them saying anything, both focused on presenting the appearance of watching the talented players. Hermione, however, was aware of every shift and fidget of the man behind her. She found herself grateful for his presence when the excited group to their right jostled them again, forcing him to put his left hand on her waist to steady her, pulling her body in closer to his so that there was hardly any space between them. He had certainly saved her the embarrassment of flashing a crowd of strangers with her risqué lingerie this evening.

Hermione’s breath hitched as her undivided attention was pulled to the warm hand still resting on her waist. Although he looked to be just as invested in the game now as he had been since joining her, Hermione began to doubt the sincerity of his focus as she felt his thumb slowly and casually brush across the underside of her breast once – twice – three times…

She shifted a little on her feet, completely aware of the brush of her clothing against his at her back. Her nipples hardened in her bra as Sirius continued his gentle ministrations and she felt a quickening in her loins at the indistinct thought of what he was doing. _Two could play at this game…_

Purposely transferring her weight again, Hermione nudged her arse back ever so slightly to rub against the zip of his trousers. A barely hissed breath above her head confirmed that he was just as aware of her as she was of him at this moment. Knowing that he would recognize the movement as purposeful if repeated, she moved her weight back with a firm pass against his awakening member.

Sirius stopped his slow stroking of her breast, almost causing Hermione to whimper. His hand began a slow descent, gently caressing her curves in a way that made her want to press more firmly into his hold. The palm of his hand tightened minutely on her hip before continuing south, softly pressing the flowing fabric of her skirt to her thighs as he passed before his fingertips lightly brushed her bare skin. His casual stroking of her breast was repeated in echo as each of his fingers traced back and forth against the bare flesh at the hem of her skirt.

Hermione bit her lower lip, silently praying for his teasing reach to expand further inland. Catching the flustered look on the witch’s face had Sirius biting back a grin. Hermione could have shouted in triumph as his calloused fingers skimmed the backs of her thighs and ever-so-slowly began to lift the hem of her skirt for increased access. As the backs of his fingers continued to find bare skin, even as the terrain began to curve up to form her shapely arse, Sirius released a guttural growl. 

“Naughty witch,” he murmured in her ear, watching as her pupils dilated at the gravely sound of his voice. “Do you always come so prepared to a Quidditch match?” The thought of her engaging in such a tryst with another wizard in mind caused a shot of possession to shoot through his chest.

Hermione had to catch her breath before responding, her own voice huskier with her increasing need. “No. Crookshanks left me with limited options, I’m afraid.”

Sirius nipped lightly at the lobe of her ear, causing Hermione to inhale sharply in response, as he breathed into her ear. “I always did like that pussy cat.” The witch in his arms shivered at the emphasized word.

The rough tips of his fingers had finally finished their eastward trek to her rear seam, where they found the softened line of lace acting as a guide to the witch’s core. “I see,” he whispered lowly. “Not so bare after all. Just what color might these delectable knickers be, I wonder?”

“Red,” she whispered as he felt along the lacy fabric at the top of her crack to where it disappeared between her closed thighs.

At this response, Sirius did grin. “My favorite.”

Hermione discretely widened her thighs as Sirius allowed his middle finger to follow the fabric trail from her arse to her covered front. He gently pressed at her puckered hole, causing Hermione to tense slightly, before moving on to her weeping quim. His finger was quickly soaked in her juices as he teasingly stroked and circled the sodden entrance. His mouth began to water, forcing him to swallow with a deep breath, at the image of going to his knees to taste the sweet witch currently at his mercy.

Determined to move things along a little faster, Hermione lowered her left arm from the rail and placed her small hand on the hard muscle of Sirius’s thigh. She slowly tightened her grip, causing him to pause momentarily, before allowing her palm to firmly rise up his leg until it rested behind her back at his narrow hip. Her dexterous fingers began a leisurely crawl across the band of his trousers, her arm coming between the one gently pleasuring her and his taut abdomen, until it found the metal button and zip. With her thumb and one finger, she popped the button from its casing and deliberately began lowering his zip, one tooth at a time.

Sirius felt a feral grin break out on his face before his forced it back into politely interested lines more appropriate to the public match played before them. If the little witch wanted more, he was more than prepared to oblige her. He felt, more than heard, her moan of approval as it rumbled through her back to his chest when her small hand discovered no impediment to his aching member. He shifted his weight slightly, causing his jacket to fall forward some more as her soft fingers wrapped around his hard cock and pulled it from the constricting confines of his trousers. He gently thrust into her palm as she began easily stroking up and down his thick shaft.

Ensuring his own fingers were well lubricated, Sirius finally allowed them to continue their quest through her slick folds until he found the little button he was searching for. He began a dance of circling and pressing against her hardened bud in time with the pace of her hand on his cock. She caught onto his pattern and began to include slight deviations to her strokes. Her actions caused him to clench his teeth, tensing his jaw, at the effort it took not to pick her up and plunge directly into her heated depths.

With each firm stroke, Sirius obliged her with a firm press against her clit. A slight twist of the wrist on an upward stroke was rewarded with measured circles. The circling of her thumb through the pre-cum at his spongy head resulted in a hard pinch that nearly had Hermione bowing in pleasure.

No one knew how long this game would last, and Sirius was reluctant to let it end before either of them achieved the release they now so desperately needed. The gradual withdrawal of his hand had Hermione whipping her head to look at him over her shoulder, desperation and denial warring for dominance on her face. Lowering his eyes to her level, he watched her steadily as he firmly took his own cock in hand, his slick fingers entwining with hers, before guiding the heading to the crack of her arse. As he began to stroke the head up and down, spreading more pre-cum across the globes of her inner cheeks, he saw understanding and hunger fill her brown eyes to the brim. 

“Say yes,” he whispered against her lips, his own barely touching hers as he spoke.

“Yes,” she replied just as quietly, her eyes begging him to move.

Releasing his cock only long enough to lift one of her legs so that her foot rested on the baseboard of the railing, allowing him better access given their difference in heights, he grasped himself again and gently began sliding the length of his member through her lubricated thighs. 

“Eyes forward,” he instructed. This witch – his witch, the possessive part of him claimed – was eager to please and snapped her head forward just as Ireland score another goal. 

Sirius had to bend slightly at the knees to get the angle he needed. He guided the sensitive head of his cock just inside her wet channel, shoving the string of lace ineffectively impeding him to the side, and paused, causing Hermione to tense in anticipation. Standing suddenly to his full height, he found himself fully seated in the vice-like grip of her velvet walls.

“Circe’s tits,” Sirius cursed, trying desperately not to throw his head back at the pleasure of this witch surrounding him. His chest rose and fell rapidly with his increased respiration; Hermione did not appear to be faring much better. Keeping one arm next to hers, stretched out so that their hands rested entwined on the wooden railing before them, he placed his other low on her abdomen to press her flush against him. 

Hoping that the crowd was sufficiently distracted with what appeared to be the approaching climax of the game and that his jacket would continue to serve as an adequate barrier to wandering eyes, Sirius slowly pulled out before quickly thrusting back in, setting a pace that caused more frustration than satisfaction. 

Hermione shivered in pleasure at the feel the ridges of his cock as they entered and withdrew with purpose but knew that she would need more to reach the end she desired – no, _needed_ – in this moment. She placed her free hand on his where it rested on her abdomen and guided it back down her front where she assisted in lifting her skirt for his access. His breathing was harsh, but quiet, in her ear as his talented fingers dove beneath the front lace and aimed directly for their intended target.

One of the fanboys from the group to their right stumbled back and hit them after one of his mates gave him a friendly shove. The bump did not break Sirius’s nearly imperceptible pace, but he did shoot the young man a murderous glare. Obviously three sheets to the wind, the fanboy held up his hands in placation and laughed out an apology before returning to his group.

It was this altercation that reminded Hermione just where she was, what she was doing, and with whom. She – _Hermione Granger_ – was fucking _Sirius Black_ on the front row of a crowded professional Quidditch match. The front of her skirt, having fallen back over Sirius’s teasing hand, was the only shield between curious eyes and her cock-filled, weeping pussy. Fanboy could have easily seen the rhythmic thrusting of Sirius at her back, had he not been inebriated, or perhaps noticed the raven-haired wizard’s absent hand wrapped suspiciously low around her front…

Full cognition of her situation combined with a timely pinch of her swollen nub had Hermione throwing her head back against Sirius’s shoulder as her release ripped through her, causing her scorching walls to tighten unyieldingly on Sirius’s cock. Her release triggered his, and she felt as his pulsing shaft shot one stream after another of hot cum into her welcoming womb.

The feel of his release, knowing that he was filling her with his pleasure, caused a second, equally powerful orgasm to tear through her body, leaving her legs weak. She would look back later and be thankful that the crowd had erupted in cheers as she experienced her own climax, because she could not be certain whether she had cried out with her second release.

Sirius was breathing heavily, his forehead resting on her shoulder as he sought to compose himself. To the casual observer, it would appear that he was mourning the loss of his team. Once he felt he had better control of his breathing, he slipped his hand between Hermione’s wet thighs and gently withdrew from her reluctant walls.

The crowd began to move away from the railing to find the exit, shuffling slowly past the disentangled pair. Sirius cast a silent, wandless cleansing charm on himself and his companion, before tucking his softened member back in his trousers. When he looked up, Hermione was facing him, leaning backwards on her arms against the railing that served as the only witness to their public tryst. Her face was blank, but her eyes gave clear evidence of the deep satisfaction in which she was still wallowing.

_This witch is one-of-a-kind_ , Sirius thought with some pleasure. He knew that he was right about her, hidden depths and all of that. 

Sirius stepped forward to eliminate the few steps creating space between them, his arms wrapping lightly around her waist so that everything from the hips down met in an innocent kiss. Looking into her chocolate brown eyes, he asked with a small smile, “Was it everything you wanted?”

Hermione lifted her arms so that wrapped around his neck comfortably. She permitted her fingers to tangle through his long hair, gently tugging in a way that caused whispers of want to echo through him once again. She smiled pleasantly and hummed her affirmative.

Sirius released a husky laugh and leaned his forehead down until it met hers. The intimacy of the eye contact caused a thrill to shoot through Hermione. She had missed this.

“Are you done avoiding me now, love?” Sirius asked, his gaze soft and questioning. “Never be embarrassed to share what you want with me. I want to know all of your fantasies.”

Hermione nodded happily in agreement and tilted her head up to press her lips lightly to his. “Let’s go home. I have one or two more to try, if you’re truly interested.” Her voice was filled with a lustful promise that Sirius was only too keen to accept.

“What about your drinks with Ginger?” Sirius asked, stepping back slightly, his reluctance to part obvious in his voice.

The bright, mischief filled smile that Hermione gave him had his cock hardening faster than anything else she could have said or done. “I think I’ve found a better way to relieve my stress. She’ll understand.”

Not daring to question her again, should she begin to doubt his interest, he swept his witch up in his arms and twisted on the spot to Apparate them home.


End file.
